


looks can be deceiving

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Costume Parties & Masquerades, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 11:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: Unsurprisingly, Tony Stark's Halloween costume party is a great place to meet people. Equally unsurprising, Clint Barton's reputation for chaos precedes him.It's college. Things like that happen.





	looks can be deceiving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy4Orcas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy4Orcas/gifts).



> For crazy4orcas, from a prompt long ago. I recently realized it had never made it up here!
> 
> "We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask AU"

“Swanning,” Natasha comments as she watches Tony preen himself in the middle of his crowded college version of a Halloween masquerade. He gets a 7/10 for the decorations, but between the music and the spiked punch she’s willing to give it an overall 8.5/10. “That’s what I would call it.”

“Mm. Good word.” Her feathered companion for the night rests a shoulder against the suspiciously stained wall and crosses his arms. There’s no question that he works out even if everything else about him is still a mystery. “Although swans are terrifying. They can break someone’s arm with their wings, you know that?”

“I think he could be intimidating if he tried.” Natasha narrows her eyes behind her mask to better envision the lanky teen in a rage. Although his slim body gives most people the impression that he couldn’t lift even a hammer, she’s seen him haul equipment around through sheer determination. If the students and faculty underestimate Tony despite his status as a doctoral candidate at the tender age of nineteen, it’s because Tony wants them to. “Pepper would be far worse.”

“Oh, man.” The unknown student shudders beside her. The movement’s unmistakable even in the strobe party lights. “I’ve seen her when she’s pissed. Not something I want to live through again.”

“What did you do?” She turns toward him, curious despite herself. Not many students at SSRU have been treated to a dressing-down by Stark’s assistant. Her ability to verbally eviscerate anyone interfering with Tony’s safety is legendary. Sometimes Natasha wonders if Howard Stark knows exactly what a formidable weapon he created when he hired her to make sure his son performed necessary human behaviors like eating, sleeping, and avoiding five-day long benders in the engineering lab.

“Uh.” Her mystery guy shifts uncomfortably. The expression behind his Mardi Gras mask is hidden, for obvious reasons, but his body language - and Natasha will be honest, beneath the bright, carnival-like colors it’s a great body - gives him away. “There may have been arrows involved.”

Natasha stares at him. There are ten different scenarios running through her mind and a dozen more waiting in the wings. She’s just not sure which one to go with.

The relative silence does wonders, though, because he shifts again and draws his arms closer to himself. “I didn’t shoot at her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s one of the things I’m thinking,” she says slowly. Take a jock or fraternity brother - she’s still trying to suss out which he is, for him to be here - and give him arrows? It’s an instant formula for chaos and destruction. The Great Science Lab Meltdown of 2014 only proved that adventurous-enough grad students were capable of the same. Banner’s hair has just recently finished growing back out to the point that no one can tell what happened and the TA blames his new gray streaks on Tony. Rightly so, as far as Natasha is concerned.

But back to the disaster on hand.

“Really, it’s not as bad as you’re imagining.” He frees a hand and rubs the back of his head, ruffling the gaudy feathers draping down to his neck. “Or maybe it is.”

She waits, using the booming bass of the music to her advantage. This time it only takes him a few seconds to crack and confess.

“I asked Stark if he could make a boomerang arrow. Just to see if I could make it work. Because, y’know, boomerang arrow. Didn’t seem like it would be that hard. And, uh, the testing - well, we didn’t even get to that part, because one of them got loose around Tony’s lab, and, yeah.”

‘And, yeah’ is right.

“You were fiddling with it while Tony explained how he built them,” Natasha begins, feeling the idea out from what she knows about Tony and what she’s picked up about this stranger, “and of course, one thing led to another… and the next thing anyone knew, the entire laboratory was in shambles.“

“Well,” he begins halfheartedly, and drops the protest. “Pretty much.”

“So you’re what happened while I was studying abroad in Russia.” She considers him thoughtfully, her own regard steady under the Cheshire cat mask. “I’d say I’m impressed, but I didn’t see the carnage firsthand. Snapchats didn’t quite do it justice.”

“In my defense, it was a great learning opportunity. Do you know how many monkey wrenches Stark has?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Thirty-seven, just in standard sizes. He’s got another twelve he’s custom-ordered for the fiddly parts.” He wiggles his fingers to illustrate the concept. Natasha glances at them and sees callouses under the glare of an orange Christmas lights string; jock, then. But the pattern isn’t familiar. She reaches out and catches his hand, turning it over to examine the well-worn patterns on his fingertips.

“Are you really an archer?” She asks, ignoring the heat of his skin and the pleasant buzz that has nothing to do with the punch. She hasn’t missed the quick breath he took at the contact, either.

“You mean you don’t know?” Unexpectedly he sounds surprised. Natasha sends him a look that’s less effective for having her eyebrows hidden by plastic - and for still holding his hand between hers.

“If you mean, do I remember your name, no. It was two AM in Moscow when Pepper woke me up with her Skype call.”

For a moment that seems to put her stranger off-balance. Just in case she lets his hand go, wondering why he’s almost disappointed. He recovers rapidly, though, and the smile that creeps over his lips is smugly delighted.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Natasha studies him, this unknown guy who’s been keeping up with her since they both retreated to the edges of the dance floor almost half an hour earlier, and wonders if she wants to put a name to the mask.

Then she wonders if he knows who _she_ is.

She settles her back against the wall, ignoring what are hopefully old beer stains and the fact that her shoulder now bumps comfortably against his.

“We’ll see.”

Cat and the canary; there’s only one way that ends, right?

A smile equal to that of her assumed identity curls the corner of her mouth, and the party goes on.


End file.
